


Mantis

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Lindir doesn’t get Mirkwood.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 100





	Mantis

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There are a few things about the Greenwood that Lindir finds undeniably _beautiful_. King Thranduil’s throne room, for example, is so enormous, so enchanting, that it’s hard not to be mesmerized by the sheer force of it all. Most of Thranduil’s keep is similarly gorgeous, and the woods, though treacherous, have their moments of loveliness. Lindir _adores_ seeing wild deer. He enjoys the lively music the minstrels play in the banquet hall, so very different than what he’s used to back home. For the most part, Lindir enjoys his visit.

On the other hand, Woodland elves are distinctly _troublesome_ , far too _wild_ , too quick with their tongues and much too prone to drinking. During the grand feast held in Lord Elrond’s honour, they seem to go through in a single night as much ale as Imladris would use up in a year. Furthermore, they’re _loud_ , and they have no problem laughing over drinks and storming across the tables to publicly kiss one another like unruly dwarves.

Frankly, it’s horrifying. Lindir sits close at Lord Elrond’s side and feels incredibly thankful to being in Elrond’s retinue and not a permanent resident of the Woodland Realm. He couldn’t take this sort of nonsense every night. 

The worst of it is the king himself, which feels blasphemous to even think, but there’s no other way to put it. King Thranduil is certainly handsome—easily one of the most attractive creatures that Lindir has ever seen, second only to Elrond—but he _knows it_ , and he flaunts it. He bats his lashes at everything that passes by him, grabbing the bottoms of any elves that dare to get too close, which everyone seems to—they flock to him like flies, greedy for his fleeting attention. He plays with their hair and kisses their necks and puts his hands in places that should be staunchly private. Lindir’s never known anyone more flirtatious in his entire life. It’s incredibly _awkward_.

Halfway through the night, it gets to a point where even most of Imladris’ delegation has been drawn into Thranduil’s web, and Lindir can’t help quietly asking his lord, “How is this happening?”

Elrond glances at him curiously. Lindir nods towards Thranduil, down the long head table, and doesn’t dare speak his concerns aloud. But Elrond seems to understand him. Elrond answers, “Ah. _That._ I am afraid that King Thranduil has some incubus blood in him, similar to how I have mortals amongst my own ancestors.” 

“An _incubus_?” Lindir repeats, unsure, at first, that he’s heard correctly. He was sure such things were only myths. “Then... he _must_ flirt...?”

“He must remain satisfied,” Elrond answers, looking thoughtfully over. He seems to be one of the only elves in the hall, if not the only one aside from Lindir, able to resist Thranduil’s pull. Perhaps his mortal blood has something to do with it. In Lindir’s case, he’s simply too smitten with another to fall for someone so unwieldy.

Then Thranduil glances over, as if by accident, and his eyes catch Lindir’s.

He dons a slow, subtle grin that sends a shiver down Lindir’s spine. Abruptly, Lindir’s entire body flushes with heat, his cheeks prickling with a blush. He can feel the low thrum of arousal simmering beneath his skin. He gulps and hurriedly looks away.

Elrond’s hand falls over his. All at once, Lindir is saved. Elrond’s presence steadies him out again, reminds him that his lust and love are one, already given away. Elrond softly promises, “Do not worry, my Lindir. I will protect you from his wiles.”

Lindir shakily nods, grateful for it: it seems even he needs that protection around the great King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.


End file.
